The Locket
by ArtsyChick
Summary: Before Jack lost his ship and was stranded on an island, he led a pirate raid and met the most adorable little girl. And it would become the most frightening night of her life. OCs.


**The Locket**

Lorraine clutched the locket in her hand tightly, staring out hopelessly into the masses of running civilians, searching for her mysterious savoir. A tear slid down her cheek and plopped onto the dirt road, but there was no one to see her cry now.

This night had been the most terrifying, saddening, heart-stopping night the little girl had ever experienced, and she would never forget it, not as long as her name was Lorraine Anna Brown.

She had been walking home with her mother form the market. It was getting dark, yet Lorraine was fascinated by it instead of afraid. Suddenly, Lorraine heard a loud popping sound, like gunfire, yet so far away. She paused to listen for it again, but her mother pulled on her arm and hurried her along. "What is it Mother?" she asked, slightly unnerved.

"Nothing dearie. It's just that it's getting dark and I want to be home before there is no more light." Another pop, and another, and another, so many that Lorraine couldn't count. Her mother steadily sped up until Lorraine was practically running to keep up. She passed a man who looked different than any man she had ever seen and she turned her head back to look at him.

The man was quite tall with dark hair that was very long, topped off with a tri-corn hat, a hint of red peeking out from underneath. He was wearing a long brown coat with a white shirt, brown breeches and knee-high boots. Gold glittered in his mouth of white teeth, reflecting the fading sunlight. Hands on his hips, swaying slightly, he smirked, and Lorraine's eyes widened in alarm. Who was he?

Suddenly, someone shoved her into a nearby alley. There was a sharp pain in her hand and, glancing down, she saw a black liquid trickling over her palm. Lorraine looked back at the street and gasped.

A man ran up to a woman and impaled her in her chest, right beneath her bust. The woman made a horrible sound, like she was choking, then she slumped to the ground. Lorraine yelped, and her yelps turned to screams when she realized the bleeding woman was her mother.

Lorraine, scrambling up, ran out to her mother and fell to her knees. She laid her head on her mother's chest and started to sob. The pain in her wounded hand had gotten stronger, but she didn't care. Her mother was dead, and that's all that mattered to her.

Then, as suddenly as when she had been pushed down, someone snatched her up and carried her back into the alley. She shrieked and kicked her legs, desperately trying to injure her attacker.

The person set her on the ground and gripped her shoulders too tightly. Through her tears, she could see it was the man she had been observing earlier. "Listen little girl," he whispered calmly. Lorraine sniffed, tears oozing down her cheeks. "You need to go home. Take the allies and back ways and get out of here."

The man stood up to leave, but Lorraine gabbed his coattails. "But sir," she whimpered pitifully, "I don't know how to get home through the allies. And… I'm scared." She burst into tears again and started crying. The man felt incredibly sorry for her, but he had important business to take care of. But she looked so sad and lost…

"All right, listen." She sniffed and looked at him. "If you show me where you live, I'll take you home. What say you to that?" Lorraine nodded solemnly.

He extended his hand, and she grasped it tightly. She then immediately winced in pain. The man felt something wet press into his palm. Kneeling down, he examined his hand and discovered it was smeared with a dark liquid. Moving his hand into the light of a lamp, he saw that it was red. He then grasped the little girl's wrist and turned her palm upwards. Her hand was gushing blood form a long gash across her tiny palm. "Where did you get this?" he inquired, looking up into her watering eyes.

"I cut my hand on something sharp when I fell in the alley," she answered, sniffling. Nodding, he reached for a flask he kept on his belt and popped off the cap. He then poured the water onto her palm, rinsing the cut of dirt and blood. Grabbing his red and white sash in his teeth, he tore off the end and tied it around her hand.

Lorraine's eyes watched in wonder as he fixed her hand. "Thank you," she murmured, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

In the dim glow of lingering daylight, the man could see her eyes were a bright, luminous blue, the color of the Caribbean Sea. Offering her his hand once more, she took it and lead him out of the alley.

"So, what's your name?" the man asked.

"Lorraine Anna Brown."

"Lorraine, eh?" She nodded. He grinned. "That's a _very_ pretty name." The little girl beamed.

"Thank you."

"So, Miss Lorraine, how old are you?"

Lorraine tilted her chin up in pride. "I'm eight years old," she replied. "I just turned eight, you know."

"When's your birthday?"

"The nineteenth of September."

He nodded in understanding. "Ah. Well, next year I'll have to send you a present. I'm obliged to, now that I know yer birthday."

"Really?" He nodded. "Wow, I've only ever gotten presents from my father and mo…" At the mere mention of the word 'mother', Lorraine burst into tears again.

"What's wrong dearie?" the man asked, kneeling beside her and dodging a flying axe.

"A man killed my mother and I watched!" she sobbed.

The man's back stiffened. "Do you know what the old seadog looked like?"

She sniffed. "Well, he was kind of tall, with long coat and hat and a strange hat, I think with a feather in the brim. He just ran up and stabbed my mother right in her chest and she died!" Lorraine buried her face in her hands and sobbed, and the man reached out and patted her back, catching a knife that was soaring through the air.

She looked up at her savior. "Sir, what's happening?"

The man couldn't help smiling. "Pirate raid," he replied. The little girl just stared at him. "Don't you know what a pirate is?" Lorraine shook her head. He was surprised. He thought everyone knew about pirates. "Well, you don't want to know," he remarked. "They're bad men."

Lorraine sniffed again. "Did a pirate kill my mother?"

"I'm afraid so."

Suddenly, she brightened in false happiness. "Well, we should be heading home," she said, plastering a smile onto her face. The man, frowning, straightened and took her small hand.

"Do you live around here?" asked Lorraine, breaking the silence.

"No, actually. I'm a sailor."

"Really? I didn't know a ship came in today. What port?

"Uh, London, o' course. Where else?"

She tapped her chin. "I see. That's odd because we've been getting in a lot of ships from Italy recently."

The man bit his lip. Did she know? Probably not. She didn't even know what a pirate was. Best to change the subject. "So, uh, what does your father do?"

"Oh, he's the blacksmith. Because he doesn't have an apprentice, he's teaching me instead. There's some law that to become a blacksmith apprentice you need to be thirteen years of age, and all the boys that age are already apprenticing." She lifted a hand to her mouth and whispered, "But don't tell the Captain that! If he finds out I'm learning how to be a blacksmith, he might send us to jail!"

The man's eyebrows furrowed together. "Captain? Captain who?"

"Oh, Captain Norrington! I forgot you don't know him. You see, Captain Norrington has been leading Port Royal for several years now. He's quite capable, he is, but there are rumors that King George will be sending a governor out here soon. After all, Captain Norrington is only a captain in the Navy."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. But you probably won't meet him. I mean, unless you're an outlaw or captain of a ship or something, you'll never meet him!" She laughed, and the man bit his lip again.

"Well, that's a meeting I don't mind missing," he remarked quietly.

"What?" Lorraine questioned, turning to look at him.

"Uh, I said, next time I come here you'll have to make me a sword."

"Oh, that would be wonderful! I'll need all the practice I can get!" The man laughed as he pretended to bend down and brush some dirt off his boot, taking Lorraine down with him, as two swords clashed above their heads.

Lorraine spotted the wooden sign with 'J. Brown' painted on the bottom banging against the old building. "Here's the blacksmith shop," she said. "Thank you for walking me home, sir." She curtsied gracefully, her nose touching the hemline of her dress.

The man laughed. "'Tis a pleasure to walk such a lovely young lady home," he replied, sweeping his hat off his head and bowing deeply. Colored beads tied into his hair jingled as he dipped his head.

Straightening up, he turned to walk away, but Lorraine tugged on his coat again. "Wait a moment sir," she said, "I want to give you something." Without waiting for an answer, she ran into the blacksmith shop.

She returned, carrying a brown scabbard, which she handed to him. "Here. I want you to have this." The man accepted the scabbard and unsheathed a glossy silver cutlass with a gleaming hilt, engraved with the insignia of the blacksmith shop. "This is the first sword I have ever made," she explained. "It can be your reward for taking me home."

The man was so surprised by the little girl's generosity; especially to someone she hardly knew. So shocking was it that he realized he was practically obligated to return the gesture.

"Here. Hold this for a moment." The man handed her back the scabbard and unhooked a chain off his neck. Kneeling down, he opened her small fist in which he placed a golden locket. "And consider this your late birthday present, since I missed it an' all." Taking back the scabbard, he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. Lorraine blushed profusely, holding the necklace in both hands and bringing it up to her collarbone.

He turned to leave, and Lorraine was snapped out of her daze. "Wait!" she called. The man stopped. "Can you tell me your name?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow!" he shouted back, continuing on before fading into the smoky shadows of the night.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," she murmured. She then opened her fingers and gazed at the locket. It was quite beautiful really, with tiny birds flitting about on the cover of the golden heart.

Lorraine clutched the locket in her hand tightly, staring out hopelessly into the masses of running civilians, searching for her mysterious savoir. A tear slid down her cheek and plopped onto the dirt road, but there was no one to see her cry now.

This night had been the most terrifying, saddening, heart-stopping night the little girl had ever experienced, and she would never forget it, not as long as her name was Lorraine Anna Brown.


End file.
